


A Multitude of Fixed Luminous Points

by starfleetdicks



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Implied Relationships, Star Trek: AOS, Star Trek: TOS references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-15
Updated: 2013-05-15
Packaged: 2017-12-11 22:40:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/804039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starfleetdicks/pseuds/starfleetdicks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the end of alpha shift, Kirk finds himself lingering to appreciate the view of space as the Enterprise slowly passes through an alien solar system. </p><p>There’s a softly lit green planet in the far distance, still light years away. He wonders if there are rings circling it, like Saturn, but they’re still too far to make out such details; closer is this system’s small sun, blazing hotly. He sees, more than feels, the careful swoop of the Enterprise as the helmsman steers them far from its gravitational pull.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Multitude of Fixed Luminous Points

Alpha shift finishes uneventfully for once. 

No war birds or black holes manifesting to plague the crew. Space is peaceful for now and Kirk’s inclined to let it remain so. Uhura offers him a mostly friendly smile and a quiet, Captain, before she’s off the bridge and away on the turbo lift. After her, half of beta shift comes up the lift, prim and ready. Kirk only spots one ensign rubbing his eyes as he takes his seat. Kirk stands from the captain’s chair, cracking his back with a huge sigh and Sulu makes a disgusted noise as he stands too, smirking at Kirk before heading to bed as well. Chekov is practically asleep at his station, having taken two shifts. Spock, in an uncommon show of sympathy that both Kirk and the beta shift elect to ignore respectfully, gently shakes Chekov’s shoulder until the young genius rubs his eyes and stumbles away to his quarters. He’s the last of the alpha shift to leave, other than Kirk and Spock.

Kirk wanders around the bridge, striding in front of the two forward stations finally and leaning against the railing, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He stares out of the polarized view screen, listening to the soft hum of the ship and her crew quietly instructing one another as the rest of beta shift filters onto the bridge. Spock is at his side after a few more moments and Kirk smiles at him.

“Captain?”

“Commander.”

“As alpha shift has ended, there is no need for you to stay on the bridge. It is important that you take your rest when you are able.”

Kirk raises a hand, waving off the worry, in a gesture Spock doesn’t seem to really understand but allows anyway without question. “I’m not worried about going to sleep immediately. I won’t need to be on the bridge for a while anyway. A few minutes watching the stars won’t cut into my sleep.”

“The stars, Captain?” Spock shifted, clasping his hands behind him.

“Yeah. You know, no matter how many times I look out there, I’ll never get used to how beautiful it is. We’re lucky, all of us, getting to do this every day. Before Starfleet, only a select few people could go into space. Only a handful of men had been on the Moon. No living person had made it to Mars. Damned lucky. Look at us, hurtling through space like it’s nothing! People could scarcely believe anyone had made it to the Moon and back in those years. To them, the stars were just a multitude of fixed luminous points lighting up the night sky. Jesus, it’s insane. Now we live out here for years at a time: artificial gravity, recycled water and oxygen, replicators, holograms, and whatever else they can come up with for us.”

Spock doesn’t respond but Kirk has a feeling he’s thinking about the slow progress of humans, when millions of alien races had already begun space travel.

“Bah, I’m probably boring you with my rambling. You don’t have to stay on the bridge, Spock. You’re free to head to bed too, you know.”

“I assure you it is not necessary. I can remain until you have concluded your… watching.”

Kirk nods and uncrosses his arms, clasping the railing behind him. There’s a softly lit green planet in the far distance, still light years away. He wonders if there are rings circling it, like Saturn, but they’re still too far to make out such details; closer is this system’s small sun, blazing hotly. He sees, more than feels, the careful swoop of the Enterprise as the helmsman steers them far from its gravitational pull. The screen darkens for an imperceptible amount of time as it reacts to the brilliant light of the sun and Kirk loses that small green planet until the ship rightens again and the darkness seeps from the screen.

“Did you ever stargaze on Earth, Spock?”

Spock straightens; at least Kirk thinks he does from what he can see in the corner of his eye. “I regret that I must inform you that my time at Starfleet was far too busy to occupy myself with stargazing, Captain. I cannot recall a time when the sky was exceptionally clear for it, either, as we were in San Francisco and the city lights drowned out the stars.”

“Fair point,” Kirk concedes, grinning. He didn’t have chance to look up much either at Starfleet. He’d kept his head down on a full sprint to showing Pike what was what about him, after all. He groans, “Tell me about it! Those lights, man. San Fran is great and all. I mean, Starfleet is fantastic, but those god awful bright lights. Jesus. Iowa, it’s different, Spock. At least out where I lived. Not many bright lights like that. You could lay out on the farm and see every star. Hell, you could catch the other side of the Milky Way on a good night, especially during the summer.” He smiles and closes his eyes. “God, those were the best nights. I’d crawl out after everyone had fallen asleep, drag a blanket out of one of the sheds, and find myself the perfect spot. If you got lucky, you could see most of the shades of purple and blue going on in that half of the Way. I didn’t get lucky enough to catch it until my teens though,” Kirk shrugged, glancing at Spock who was watching him slightly, expression blank. Kirk counted it a victory. It wasn’t a bored blankness as far as he could tell and there were no raised eyebrows.

“I find that I now wish I had organized the time, Captain.”

“Jim,” Kirk finds himself correcting automatically and this time he doesn’t imagine the way Spock stiffens at the suggestion. They’re on the bridge after all. Kirk’s mistake. He clears his throat and tries to talk over the error, over the stillness of the bridge as they eavesdrop on their superiors’ conversation. “Do you remember when you first saw the stars on Vulcan, Spock?”

“I presume I saw them when I was an infant but I cannot recall such a time that I can confidentially label as my first.”

Kirk looks back at the view screen, that green planet gliding slowly nearer. “Yeah. No, you’re right. It’s a silly question, huh? We all saw the stars for the first time when we were too young to put it in the right spot for memory. I was born out here, in space. The first thing I must have seen, apart from my mom, was probably the stars. Hopefully it wasn’t the smoking wreckage of my dad’s ship, right?” It’s a morbid, awful, self-deprecating joke but Kirk can’t help himself sometimes. Coping, Pike had called it one day when Kirk had thrown something equally horrendous out with a laugh and a shadow of a smile.

Spock throws a calculating look Kirk’s way and he pretends not to notice.

“Let’s reword the question then. When is the first time you remember?”

Spock’s lips become a thin, thoughtful line and his eyebrows furrowing. “The memory that immediately comes to mind is one involving my mother.” There is a heavy silence that Kirk doesn’t break, waiting patiently for Spock to regain control of whatever emotion he must be feeling. “I am sorry. I do not feel comfortable speaking of such intimate details while still among the crew.”

“Hey, I get it.” Kirk says quietly, throwing up his hands in surrender. “I wouldn’t imagine pressing. Maybe we’ll revisit it over a game of chess or something. Want to hear about mine instead?”

Spock nods slowly, relaxing as Kirk takes whatever attention the bridge is giving them.

Kirk grins and claps Spock on the shoulder, squeezing it before letting go and pointing out at the green planet. “When I was very small, I thought the Earth was the entirety of the universe. Mom wasn’t around to tell me different, off-planet with the Fleet, and I didn’t realize until around six what that meant. She came back with some souvenirs, food from far off planets and archives of declassified alien culture and old space missions for me to read. That night started all my stargazing. I stayed out on the porch even when she asked me to go to bed, bundled up in a couple thousand jackets since winter was getting underway and I was a scrawny little human. I gave her some stupid excuse, promised to sleep soon probably. The sun went down and the moon came up, like it had for centuries, but this time I was watching for it. Suddenly it felt like every twinkling star in the sky was a light flicking on just for me. Ridiculous, right? Well, I was young. I had gotten a datapad for some holiday I can’t remember now but, other than for reading, I hadn’t used it much. I nearly killed the thing that night, looking up what constellations were visible in our hemisphere. Found my favorites: Persei, Orionis, Puppis, Pyxidis, and some others. I couldn’t see Pyxidis but somehow I was sure I’d love it anyway. The other three though, I picked them out in the sky and laid there all night on the porch until I couldn’t feel my toes, imagined flying around the stars that made up Orion’s belt one day.”

“The hunter, the hero, the ship’s stern, and the ship’s compass.”

“Yes,” Kirk startles, looking at Spock.

Spock quirks an eyebrow at him. Amused, Kirk decodes. “I may not have taken the time to stargaze but I am educated in Terran astronomy. I am somehow unsurprised in your favorite constellations. They suit you.”

Kirk laughs. “I wouldn’t have pegged you to know those ancient meanings. Someone decided to draw some pictures with the stars and now look at where we are, however many centuries later, and Vulcans can recite them back to us!”

“I am most fascinated by the formation known as Lyrae myself, Captain.”

“Lyrae? That’s a summer one in my hemisphere. It’s the what, harp or something?”

Spock looks approvingly at him and Kirk feels an odd blossom of pride in his chest for being able to recall that knowledge from what seems like a lifetime ago. “Indeed, Captain. I am able to play the Vulcan harp so it is a constellation of some meaning for me.”

“The Vulcan harp, huh?”

“Yes. Perhaps I will play it for you one day.”

Kirk chuckles and gives up the view of that green planet. Though it’s close enough now that if Kirk reached out a hand he could feel as if he was holding it, close enough that Kirk can spot the golden rings circling it. He smiles and heads to the turbolift with Spock at his side, leaving beta shift to their duties without distraction. “Maybe we can get Uhura to sing along with it.”

“That would be agreeable.”

Kirk waits until Spock delivers him to his quarters to turn again to the Vulcan and clasp his arm. He’s glad when Spock doesn’t raise an eyebrow or pull away; he looks for the world as if he’s getting used to Kirk’s ridiculously human need for physical contact. “Thank you, Spock. For staying on the bridge and hearing me prattle on.”

“Your stories were most intriguing, Captain. I would not find similar conversations in the future displeasing. For now, however, as you are only human, you should be resting.”

Kirk nods slowly, keying in his access code and stepping into his rooms obediently. 

“Good night, Spock,” he decides to throw out after a moment.

There’s a beat of silence, which makes Kirk want to peer into the hallway, and then a soft, “Good night, Jim.”

Six year old James T. Kirk lay out underneath the stars that night and dreamed of space travel and Orion’s belt. Not in a million years would that little kid have believed that he could be like his father or his mother, off-planet, captaining his own vessel and crew. 

Lucky, Kirk firmly believes it, damned lucky.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a prompt on tumblr to write from the point of view of someone seeing the stars for the first time. Tweaked a bit for my personal gain.


End file.
